Haylie POV
One of the popular kids had a bonfire party in the woods. Big parties weren't my thing, and I didn't like being surrounded by crowds of people.
But Claudine insisted I come with her. After some back-and-forth, I gave in and went along. As the night went on, I found myself sitting alone by the fire, feeling out of place. Claudine had taken off with some guy from the football team, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Not wanting to sit there any longer, I decided to take a walk to clear my mind.
The moonlight gave me just enough light to see the path as I wandered deeper into the woods. The air was crisp and fresh, the leaves crackling under my feet with every step.
I began to understand why people loved this place so much. But then, I heard something behind me—a noise that sent a shiver down my spine.
I froze.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice shaky. But silence greeted me.
Then, I heard it—a low, guttural growl. My heart started racing, my blood running cold. I whipped around, my mind screaming at me to get out of there.
I could hear more movement behind me, the sound of branches snapping. My breath caught in my throat as I quickened my pace, glancing over my shoulder.
That's when I saw it—a massive black wolf with glowing red eyes, charging right at me.
A scream tore from my throat, and I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. My mind was racing, panic taking over as I tore through the trees. The wolf was getting closer, and just when I thought I might escape, my foot caught on a tree root, sending me crashing to the ground.
Pain shot up my leg as blood trickled from a gash, but I barely noticed. All I could see was the wolf standing over me, its blood-red eyes locked onto mine.
Tears streamed down my face, my voice lost in my terror. Was this it? Was I going to die here?
I closed my eyes, clamping down on my fear, praying for a miracle.
And then, I heard a loud crash, followed by a pained whimper from the wolf. I opened my eyes, heart pounding, but the wolf was gone. There was no sign of it anywhere.
Where did the wolf go? Was I just dreaming? I frantically scanned the area, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
But there was no sign of the big black wolf with those fiery red eyes. My breath was shaky as I glanced around, hoping to find something—anything—that could explain what had just happened.
Then I heard it—a voice.
"Are you okay?" My heart skipped a beat at the sound of the deep, strong voice cutting through the night.
I whipped my head in the direction it came from, and my eyes locked on a figure standing in front of me. The moonlight illuminated him just enough for me to see his striking features—dark, thick hair and piercing brown eyes. He looked calm, yet there was an intensity in his gaze.
"That looks pretty bad," he said, his voice steady but with a hint of concern.
I followed his gaze and realized he was looking at my knee. The sharp pain suddenly made sense—I'd completely forgotten about my fall.
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I glanced down at the gash on my knee, now smeared with dirt and blood.
The adrenaline had kept me from noticing, but now the pain was undeniable, throbbing with each passing second.
How could I have forgotten about my knee?
"I… I didn't even realize," I mumbled, my voice shaking slightly as I tried to hide my embarrassment. The guy stepped closer, crouching down to take a better look at my injury.
"Here, let me help you," he said softly, his gaze never leaving mine for too long, as if making sure I was okay.
Now that he was closer, I could see him more clearly. His presence made my heart skip wildly in my chest, my lips going dry as I nervously licked them again and again.
Trying to compose myself, I muttered, "It's probably just a scratch." But his eyes were filled with more concern than my words warranted.
"We should clean it," he insisted. "I have a first aid kit in my truck."
His voice was steady, and calm, as if he had known me for a long time. There was something reassuring about the way he spoke, and before I knew it, a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Grateful for his offer, I softly replied, "Thank you."
He stood up beside me and offered his hand.
I hesitated for a moment, but when I took it, the warmth and roughness of his skin caught me off guard. His hands were strong and calloused, like someone used to hard work, unlike most of the boys I knew.
He gently pulled me up from the ground, steadying me as I rose on my injured leg.
"Here, put your arm around my shoulders. It'll be easier to walk with that banged-up knee," he said. His voice was kind but firm.
I nodded, feeling oddly secure with him despite being complete strangers. It seemed reckless to trust him so quickly, yet something about him made me feel safe.
His broad shoulders felt strong, like those of an athlete—probably a football player at our school. I couldn't help but notice the firmness of his muscles as I leaned on him for support.
As he guided me through the woods, I was struck by how surreal the night had become. The wolf, the fall, and now this mysterious guy who appeared out of nowhere.
But as we walked, all I could think about was how grateful I was for his help, and how his presence made the night a little less frightening.
We approached a large black truck parked among the other cars from the party. He guided me to the back, opened it up, and helped me sit down on the edge of the truck bed.
"Wait here," he said gently before heading to the front of the vehicle. Once he was gone, I finally exhaled deeply, feeling my body relax for the first time since the whole ordeal started.
Who would've thought that my night would take this turn—the one night I didn't want to go out?
It wasn't long before he returned, carrying a small red metal box. He set it down beside me and began opening it, retrieving gloves and a bottle of sterilizing liquid.
Curiosity got the best of me as I glanced at his focused movements, watching him prepare the first aid kit.
"This might hurt a bit," he warned, his voice soft but steady. Before I could respond, I felt the sting of wet cotton pressing against my injured knee. A small moan of pain escaped my lips as I looked down, seeing the dirt and blood being wiped away.
"I'm sorry, but I need to clean it," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.
His touch was gentle, despite the stinging, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. As he carefully cleaned my wound, I found my gaze drawn to his face again, and this time, our eyes met.
His brown eyes seemed warmer up close, and the soft smile on his lips made my cheeks flush even more.
Embarrassed by my reaction, I quickly looked away, focusing on the trees around us. My heart was pounding so wildly against my ribs that I was sure he could hear it. I tried to calm myself down, but his next words caught me off guard.
"So, what's a beautiful girl like you doing alone in the woods?" he asked, his voice breaking the quiet tension in the air.
The word "beautiful" hit me like a jolt, and my face heated up even more—my neck, too.
I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the embarrassment. "My friend ditched me, and I just wanted to take a walk," I explained, feeling a little self-conscious as I met his eyes again.
Our eyes lingered on each other for what felt like an eternity, but then he broke the connection and returned his attention to my wound.
His hands were warm and gentle as he carefully wrapped a bandage around my knee. "There we go," he said, his voice breaking the quiet once again.
I glanced down, surprised to see he was already done. A mix of emotions stirred inside me—there was a strange sadness that it was over, but also excitement. Being taken care of by someone like him, a handsome stranger, felt... nice. Almost too nice.
"I never got your name," he said, breaking my thoughts. "A pretty girl like you must have a name, right?"
His eyes met mine again, and I couldn't help but smile. There was something about the way he spoke, so smooth yet genuine. "My name is Haylie," I finally replied, my voice softer than I intended. "Haylie Hatten"
His expression softened, and his smile grew wider. I swore I saw a faint blush on his cheeks, though maybe I was imagining it. "Haylie... that's a beautiful name," he said with that same gentle smile. "I'm Liam Berkley."
Liam. The name echoed in my mind. I could feel my cheeks flush, the warmth creeping up my neck. I tried to play it cool, not wanting to seem too flustered. "Nice to meet you, Liam," I said, hoping my voice didn't betray how fast my heart was beating.
That was how I met Liam.
That one night changed everything, and the moment we crossed paths, it was like sparks flew between us.
He drove me home in his truck, making sure I was safe, and as he left me at my doorstep, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. I wasn't sure what it was, but I felt it.
The next day at school, I was busy at my locker with my friend Claudine beside me when I saw Liam again. My cheeks flamed up the moment he approached.
In the daylight, he looked even more handsome than he had the night before. I tried to play it cool, closing my locker with a slight smile.
"Hello, Liam," I said softly, trying to sound calm.
His face lit up when he heard me, and our eyes met. His warm, soft brown eyes held a depth I could have gotten lost in forever. And that smile—why did he have to look so handsome when he smiled? His perfect lips framed white, flawless teeth, like a prince out of a fairytale.
"How's your knee feeling today?" he asked, snapping me out of my daydream.
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "I'm better, thanks to you," I replied.
Our eyes met briefly, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Before I could say anything more, Claudine chimed in, grinning mischievously. "Well, who would've thought Liam, the team captain, would come to my friend's rescue in the woods!"
I blushed a deep scarlet. Claudine could be so dramatic sometimes. I cleared my throat. "Thanks to Liam, he saved me last night. I'm really grateful he showed up."
I hadn't forgotten about that black wolf with the fierce red eyes I'd seen in the woods.
Liam had been my savior, and I couldn't shake the gratitude I felt. Looking back at him, I gathered the courage to say, "Liam, is there anything I can do to show you how thankful I am for helping me last night?"
I swear I saw a small blush creep onto his cheeks, which only made my heart race faster.
Liam was just… perfect in every way. His light blue V-neck shirt highlighted his athletic build, his chest and arms sculpted, muscles lightly visible beneath the fabric. His veins stood out slightly, adding to the aura of strength he carried.
"If you'd like to make it up to me," he began with a smile, "you could come with me to the movies."
My eyes widened in surprise, and I heard Claudine let out a soft laugh before walking away, leaving us alone.
I could barely breathe, my heart racing in my chest. Did he just ask me to the movies?
Our eyes met, and his soft brown eyes seemed to warm even more when he smiled. "You said you'd do anything, right?" he asked, his voice calm and smooth.
If I were alone right now, I'd probably smack myself.
Why did I have to say *anything*? I cursed my big mouth silently. But it's just a movie... right? A movie with a guy who looked like he'd been sculpted by the gods themselves. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "Okay," I managed to say, forcing a small smile.
"Great," he said, his smile widening. "How about tomorrow afternoon? It's Friday."
Oh no. I was so screwed. The hottest guy in school, the football captain, was asking me to the movies. This had to be a dream, right? My legs felt like jelly beneath me, and I was pretty sure I was melting under his gaze.
"Friday afternoon," I echoed, my mouth suddenly dry.
Our eyes met again, and I felt like a lost puppy staring up at him, completely helpless.
"I'll pick you up at five by your house. See you Friday," Liam said, his smile lingering as he turned and walked away.
And just like that, I stood there, barely able to process what had just happened.
Ever since the day Liam asked me to the movies, my whole world had turned upside down. I had dated before, but never had the football captain—or someone as undeniably hot as Liam—asked me out.
That night at home, I could barely focus on anything, least of all my aunt's stories at dinner.
I loved my aunt Camilia dearly. She had raised me since I was five, after my mother passed away. She was my mother's best friend, and when it became just the two of us, she stepped up, becoming both a caretaker and a mother figure.
But even with all the love I had for her, that night, Liam was the only thing on my mind.
Lying in bed later, I found myself wide awake, absentmindedly playing with the charm hanging from my necklace—a small half-moon pendant that had belonged to my mother. It was a habit of mine, something I did whenever I was nervous or lost in thought.
And tonight, all I could think about was Liam.
There was something about him that had me hooked. His touch, his smile, his effortless charm—it felt like he had me under a spell.
I was lost in thoughts of him, unable to shake the feeling that this was the start of something that could change everything.
Somehow, I eventually fell asleep, but before I knew it, my little white bunny alarm clock was going off. It was time to wake up for school.
Today was Friday—the day I was going to the movies with the hottest guy ever. Excitement and nerves mixed in my chest as I slowly climbed out of bed, making my way to the bathroom next to my room to start my morning routine.
After showering and getting dressed, I headed downstairs for breakfast.
My aunt Camilia was already in the kitchen, where the smell of her famous fluffy pancakes filled the air.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," she greeted me with a warm smile.
"Good morning," I replied, smiling back as I sat down at the old oak table. The kitchen was mostly wooden, with countertops made from aged wood and a rustic feel that made the house feel cozy.
This house had been my mother's before it became mine.
The room I slept in had once been hers, and there were still pieces of her life scattered around—clothes in the closet, shoes, handbags, a few pieces of jewelry.
They were all I had left of her. I never gave them away because they were the closest connection I had to my mom, who passed away when I was so young. These remnants of her life meant the world to me.
"How did you sleep?" my aunt's voice broke through my thoughts.
I smiled softly. "Sort of okay," I said, trying to seem more awake than I felt.
Aunt Camilia joined me at the table, placing a fresh stack of pancakes in front of me. "Remember, we have that thing after school today," she said casually.
I frowned as I poured syrup over the pancakes, my mind scrambling.
What thing? Was I forgetting something important? Before I could ask, she gave me a knowing look. "You forgot, didn't you?" she teased.
I winced. My mind had been completely foggy, probably from thinking about Liam and the movie all night. "I'm so sorry, Aunt," I apologized, feeling embarrassed.
A small laugh escaped her. "It's okay, sweetie. It's the day we visit your mother and father's grave," she reminded me gently.
Her words brought everything crashing back.
How could I have forgotten? Today was the day we always set aside to visit my parents.
A wave of guilt washed over me. How could I have forgotten? Today marked ten years since my mother had passed away, and here I was, consumed with excitement over a date with Liam.
I felt so stupid. Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could blink them away, I felt my aunt's gentle hand rest on mine.
"I know it's hard. I miss her too," Aunt Camilia said softly, her voice filled with the same pain I felt.
I missed my mother every second of every day. As I looked at my aunt, I saw my own grief reflected in her eyes, and it made my heart ache even more.
"I'm so sorry I forgot," I whispered, my voice heavy with guilt. "A guy from school asked me out to the movies, and I let myself get caught up in that and... I forgot about today."
A small, tender smile spread across Aunt Amora's lips. "Your mother would have wanted you to live your life, sweetheart," she said gently.
Her words were both comforting and bittersweet.
I knew my mother would want me to be happy, but it didn't take away the sting of forgetting a day that meant so much to both of us. I squeezed my aunt's hand, grateful for her understanding, but the weight of the day still lingered in my heart.
Every year around this time, my aunt and I would visit my mother and father's graves, bringing fresh flowers and mourning the moments that could have been.
My father Kaysen had passed away before I was born, leaving me with only a single photograph of him and my mother. I knew his name was Kaysen, that he was handsome, and that he and my mother had never married.
My aunt Camilia had told me that my mother fell pregnant with me accidentally while she was engaged to someone else, but she rarely talked about him, and I never pressed for more.
Gathering my strength, I let go of Aunt Camilia's hand and picked up the syrup, pouring it over my pancakes. I needed to shake off the sadness and focus on the day ahead.
"Oh, I forgot to mention—your uncle Jacob will be there," Aunt Camilia said, her tone lightening.
Hearing that Uncle Jacob Volkow would be joining us instantly lifted my spirits. He wasn't actually my uncle, but he was my mother's best friend and had always been a father figure to me.
Uncle Jacob wasn't that old—maybe in his mid-40s—and he still had that effortlessly handsome look.
He had taught me how to ride a bike and fix broken things around the house. Whenever he visited, he filled the house with warmth and laughter.
"I can't wait to see him," I said, smiling as I took a big bite of my pancakes. The sweet, fluffy texture melted in my mouth, momentarily distracting me from the emotions of the day.
Uncle Jacob always brought comfort, and I knew that today, of all days, his presence would mean a lot.
Growing up with Aunt Camilia and Uncle Jacob, and my other Aunt Amora they became the closest thing I had to parents and as a family. Even though we weren't related by blood, they felt like family, filling the roles of mother and father in my life.
Sometimes, I wondered what had happened to my mother's family or my father's, but those questions were always left unanswered. It was like I knew so little about where I truly came from.
What I did know, though, was that I was the spitting image of my mother at my age.
Aunt Camilia often told me that I had her fiery red hair, the freckles across my nose, and her same green eyes. As for my father, she would say I had his loyalty, his bravery, and, funnily enough, his ears.
That morning, as I sat eating breakfast with Aunt, we talked about the day ahead—the visit to my mother and father's graves, and what that always meant for both of us.
When we finished, I helped her clean the dishes, my thoughts drifting between the memories of the past and the excitement of the day ahead.
Once the kitchen was spotless, I grabbed my skateboard, threw my backpack over my shoulder, and headed out the door for school.
The cool morning air brushed against my face as I skated down the familiar streets, my mind still swirling with thoughts of Liam, my parents, and the day that lay before me.